It's three in the morning, I have just finished complaining bitterly to Trad via email about LL Bean about how old isn't the new New and now I find I'm out of coffee. I need that like I need tartan pants that are inevitably too big everywhere my post-child bearing curves could afford to show off a little. I would have liked some French Market coffee, if I could have any this night. And that is how I arrived at Turtle Soup - a New Orleans specialty.
During Mardi Gras at Commander's Palace in our precious New Orleans, coffee cups full of turtle soup are handed around after the parade in the private party rooms.
The soup part sounds warm and inviting, the turtle part - although many in this esteemed readership disagree - never has been appealing to the Hostess. But I love the idea of soup in coffee cups after a parade.
At the moment however, I love the idea of coffee in my cup so very much more.
my choice for boys bedding